Mysterious Diseases Are Such An Adventure!

First of all, I don't like the word "grunt" and I do believe that no food should be called a grunt.  (Sorry Amber...I just can't do it!)

Second of all, I really don't like the word "swoopin'".  There is no good reason for the displeasure it causes me.  Maybe it makes me think of "poopin'".  Maybe not.  But in any case, you won't likely hear me say it.

And away I go, full throttle...

My mysterious lip disease is now covering most of my mouth, though it's less uncomfortable because the cracking in the corner is nearly healed.  I was going to say it's so sad that there's no way Richard Armitage would do a double take if he saw me pass him on the street, but then I realized that even with the most dewy disease-free lips on earth I'd still look like Alfred Hitchcock's sister.  Who cares?  Richard Armitage has had a mullet before and I'll not soon forget the creepies that gave me.  (Don't ever do that again Richard or you may inadvertently be the cause of a myocardial infarction)

It was suggested that the massive quantities of lime and quinine I've been consuming mixed with some harsh sun exposure (or possibly mixing uncongenially with my medication) could be responsible for my lip "issues".  So to find out I have refrained from drinking my usual 5 giant glasses of tonic and lime*, which was replacing my most immoderate number of nightly beers, because I'm supposed to not poison myself.

I can report, most sincerely, that living a life of moderation and health is very tedious and boring.  I drank water last night.  Water.  I love water. But I already drink lots of water.  Plain water.  Supposedly you can actually overdose on water too.

Moderation sucks.  I don't like the way it makes me feel.  It feels like wearing thong underwear.  It feels like wearing a bra with a splinter in it.  It feels like a botched lobotomy.

Yes yes, it's so awesome that I consumed about a thousand fewer calories yesterday than normal and sure it could potentially reduce my likeness to good ol' Alfred...whatever. 

It really bothers me that more and more packaged foods are using the suffix "-ables" freely to give us a sense of action, of ease, and of...I don't know...cuteness?  I think it's awful.  I'm see it more and more "Lunchables"  and "Packables" and "Drinkables" and "Crapables"- WHOA- sorry about that.  I'm just making shit up now.  But seriously Con Agra, Nestle, and Kraft: cute suffixes will not fool me into believing your "food" is anything less than evil.

My hands are blackened under the nails from processing grape juice.  I have to can it today.  All day yesterday (aside from the hours I worked my job) were spent making grape juice.  Oh, and playing chess with Max (which was really fun!) and watching Nacho Libre with him (surprisingly funny and good movie) and watching Max play video games (he loves this because it means I'm taking part in his passion)...between all of this I strained, squeezed, rinsed and replaced butter muslin over the strainer to strain some more.  I have 1 gallon and 1 quart of juice to can up. 

I'm not going to Kung Fu tonight.  I can't go because in spite of all my pleading with the universe (sorry Blaize, just can't help it) I am not entering into a perimenopausal state yet which means I still pay the tedious monthly feminine toll...if I could I would hide under a rock until it's over but since any rock I could hide under would also be large enough to kill me, I'll just wait it out at home. 

There's a black belt who comes to class who is this super kick ass woman who is definitely old enough to be free of her reproductive chains and I'm envious of her.  Mostly I'm envious because she's got to be ten years older than me and she is about a hundred times more fit than me, super nice, and has the prettiest hair and, what can I say?  She has a black belt in Kung Fu- that adds up to badass in my book. 

I will be doing some great stretching though and practice some kicks and such to keep myself in the action.  Max is going to be so mad at me staying home and he's going to demand to know why and I just have to hope that he'll respect my wishes for him not to tell anyone why I'm really staying home.

Well, I have got to jet off and run a couple of errands before the kiddo gets home.  I don't have much to look forward to this evening...the days will drag...but you all go ahead and enjoy your moderation in all things and I promise not to flip you off because you can drink just one or two beers and don't get lip diseases from overdosing on quinine and lime.




*Still with no sauce because I'm SO OVER drinking alcohol.**


**Seriously, I'm practically a self righteous teetotaler and it is only by the grace of my impressive restraint that I have refrained from lecturing you all about the evils of mid-week drinking.